Page 11 of Trial By Fire

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was he doing? Warn her? Was he really that shaken by what he had just seen, or was he truly so desperate to win the demon prince’s favor?

Just because he owed Malekith his life, just because the bond that tethered him to the demon prince was slowly wrapping itself around his heart, didn’t mean he had to agree with everything Malekith did. Aric was still a man of the mage order, sworn to protect the human realm. And if he saw something he wasn’t meant to see, then that was hardly his fault.

Vizra’s eyes sparked with poorly concealed excitement, and Aric’s mind raced. If she believed she had stumbled onto something incriminating, something that could be used against Malekith, then how far would she go to take advantage of it? She had taunted Aric before, calling him the demon prince’s pet, a mere plaything. If she thought she could use Aric to bring Malekith down . . .

“What’s going on here?”

The voice shattered the stillness of the library, and Aric and Vizra both whirled around to see Malekith standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing with anger.

“I told you to leave my pet alone, Vizra.”

Aric’s heart sank at the word, even though he knew it was all part of the game they were playing, the ruse to draw out whatever plot Vizra had in mind. But the sting of the word, the reminder of his place, his tenuous hold on Malekith’s favor . . . it still cut like a knife.

Vizra, to her credit, didn’t back down. She lowered the papers she was holding and fixed Malekith with a steely gaze.

“Oh, please. We both know he means nothing to you.”

A muscle twitched in Malekith’s jaw, and he bared his fangs in a snarl. Aric’s heart ached at the sight, the long, lethal lines of the Malekith’s body so tense with anger and protectiveness. He was going to get himself killed over a worthless human like Aric, and Aric didn’t know whether to feel unworthy or desperate to prove he wasn’t.

“Be that as it may,” Malekith said, his voice a dangerous rumble, “I have need of him. And I will not have you interfering with my plans.”

Vizra’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk as she waved the papers at Malekith. “Oh, but your little pet has been quite helpful, Malekith,” she said. “It seems your schemes are unraveling faster than you can weave them.”

The air in the room crackled with tension as Malekith’s eyes narrowed dangerously. In a flash, he was across the room, looming over Vizra. The power that radiated from him was palpable, the very air vibrating with his presence.

“You understand nothing of my plans, Vizra. Run along and play your little games elsewhere.”

“As you wish, my prince. But remember, the Sovereign’s eyes are everywhere.”

Vizra shot Aric a wicked smile before turning and slinking out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, Malekith rounded on Aric. His eyes blazed with anger, but there was something else there, too. A flicker of uncertainty, maybe, or a plea for understanding. Aric wanted nothing more than to cross the room and wrap his arms around that lean, lethal frame. Malekith had gone to great lengths to protect him, to keep him from harm. But Aric was no fragile thing in need of coddling. He could fight his own battles, even if it meant facing down a creature like Vizra.

“What were you thinking?” Malekith’s voice was a low hiss, and he closed the distance between them. The heat of his body, the smoky scent of his skin, enveloped Aric.

Aric lifted his chin, defiant. “I was thinking that you left those papers there on purpose.”

For a moment, surprise flickered across Malekith’s face before his expression settled into a grudging respect. “Clever little mage,” he murmured, his anger seemingly dissipating.

Aric felt a thrill run through him at the praise, even as he mentally chided himself for the reaction. The tension between them shifted, becoming charged with a different kind of energy. Malekith reached out, his fingers brushing Aric’s cheek in a gesture that was both possessive and oddly tender.

“We’ll see tomorrow how well it plays out.”

Four

The first rays of dawn broke over the demon realm, casting an eerie, blood-red light across the vast field that now served as their assembly area. Aric’s heart pounded in his ears as he took in the sheer scale of the demon army. Thousands upon thousands of infernal creatures stretched as far as the eye could see, their weapons glinting ominously in the dim light. The ground trembled with the march of hooves, claws, and unnameable things, and the air throbbed with dark energy, making his skin prickle.

Beside him, Malekith stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression a mask of calm. But Aric sensed the tension thrumming through his lean frame, the same coiled readiness that filled Aric himself. Whether the prince felt any of the same doubts and fears that Aric was struggling to suppress, he gave no sign. Whatever intricate game Malekith had set into motion the night before, he seemed unfazed and unconcerned.

“Well, little mage,” Malekith said, his voice low. “I suppose this is it.”

Aric could barely hear him over the rumble of the army as it began to mobilize, the ground shaking beneath their feet. “The beginning of the end,” he replied, his throat gone dry.

“The beginning of something,” Malekith said.

He turned to look at Aric, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that took Aric’s breath away. In his look, Aric saw all the things Malekith could not put into words: his hopes, his fears, his desperate longing for a different future. For a world where they did not have to be enemies, where they did not have to deny what burned between them.

“We can do this, my star,” Malekith said, and his gloved hand closed over Aric’s armored wrist in a fleeting touch. “I promised you my protection, and you shall have it.”

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